Gratitude. Grief. Growth.

Five Security Blankets I Keep In My Wallet

Two blue green winkle shells from St Simons Island because they are pretty and only cost 50 cents. They remind me of a place I hold dear. I’ve had them for a year.

My kindergarten school picture. That was a great year in Mrs. Lemmon’s class…I learned to read, my right from left and how to tie my shoes! It reminds me of a time that I treasure. It’s 39 years old.

The deposit slip for my divorce settlement from Fartbuster. It was so hard to ask for that money as a token reimbursement for the three years I supported him during school. I spent most of it on travel and there were times I wanted to send him a postcard! It reminds me to insist on and fight for what I deserve. It’s been in there for 11 years.

Alphabet letters from a keychain that broke. My very wise friend goes by the initials HRCFS. Many of us rely on her counsel so when she left for a while we made keychains that said “WWHRCFSD?” to invoke her good advice. They make me feel a little smarter. I’ve carried these beads for a year.

A piece of my nephew’s security blanket, Poppy. This boy loved his Poppy with a devotion that most of us cannot fathom. To the rest of the world, Poppy was just an old rubberized sheet. But to my nephew, Poppy was the safest thing in the world. He held it to his cheek and sucked his thumb to fall asleep when he was a toddler. His parents lived in fear that Poppy might be lost, so Poppy was divided into sub-Poppies for school, car, washing, etc. One summer, we were at the beach together and the grownups had stayed up wayyyyy too late talking to Mr. John Liquor. The next morning, we went out blueberry picking in the stifling heat. We were all on edge and grumpy. Someone snapped at someone else and the car got tense. I turned to my nephew riding in the carseat next to me and said, “Don’t worry about it. The grownups are not feeling very well today.” A few seconds later, I feel his little hand tapping on my wrist. He held up a thin strip of Poppy to me that he had torn off his blanket. What a kindness! What generosity! I have carried Poppy in my wallet ever since and that kid is almost a teenager now. It reminds me that I am loved.

Did you have a security blanket when you were little? Do you still carry something that grounds you or reminds you that you are loved? That you are strong? That you deserve your fair share? That you are bright and full of promise? I hope so.

Yes, I did have a security blanket as a child. It was a queen size yellow woven blanket…my ex-husband calls it a hospital blanket, but whatever. I kept my trusty yellow blanket for years. It was worn and had a huge hole in so my mom cut it in half. It slowly grew smaller and smaller over time until it was no more. I have no idea where my friend is now, however, I still have to sleep with a blanket made from the same material, now it is a red one.

I also have a small, smooth, river stone with the words “first stone” written on it. This reminds me that no one is perfect; we all make mistakes, and it is not my place to throw the first stone at any one. They may actually throw one back at me!

You are brave to carry these wonderful talismans with you! I had a wallet stolen several years ago, and with it went nearly 15 years of treasures – the “business card” from my friend Scott that said “Life is but a Dream,” a photo of my husband taken when we were dating with a shirt that said “Mistletoe Maniac” (the thought of it still makes me laugh), coins from a trip to Europe when I was a child. I have never felt so vulnerable. The loss of my credit cards and money paled in comparison to the loss of those things. Today I still have many, many touchstones (the post it note that was stuck to a $20 bill one time that just says “Love you, Dad”, the little stuffed bulldog I bought myself at the end of graduate school, and more) but they are on my desk or by my bed, where it feels safer to keep them.

I have thought about that before, Deb (and now I’m thinking about it again). I guess that’s the chance we take. Vivi has been talking lately about wanting a “keepsafe” box. I might get myself one, too!

Well yes. Only have i felt completely special and safe a handful of times. Twice when i was pregnant and i had that “handle with care” sign on my belly. Once when i had returned from Rehab (for the umpteeeenth time) i lay in bed and wondered how i was going to do it. stay sober, be a mother, be a wife, be a daughter, be a friend, be an individual with self-confidence and get up and carry on. While i lay there, crying..i looked up to see a wicker basket that I hadn’t noticed in a long time. I had been gone for 6 months and needless to say, a house with 4 boys and no woman is hardly a clean home! It was sitting on a dust covered book case waiting.. and waiting. I couldn’t remember what was in that basket and why on earth i thought it should be in my bedroom, of all places. Slowly, i composed myself and began to remember, what were the treasures inside?

It was Christmas, and someone had given me this wicker “thing” with “notes of positive affirmations.” I opened it and began to read “you made those great scrap-books for Jackson” , “you let boys, be boys” “You take in stray kittens” “your laugh is great fun”. There were many, many more. At the time i first received these, i couldn’t receive them in the way intended. I was almost embarrassed to read them. I certainly didn’t deserve these. I had too much guilt and shame to embrace any of these affirmations. But THIS time.. with a clear head and honest heart, i knew i was worth every one of these little hand written notes. I read every one, and EVERY one held a special memory and dammit, i was worth every word. That special box brought back a person i had forgotten. someone that i was pretty sure didn’t belong or exist and certainly didn’t EARN any of these kind words. But she did and i did. So, thank you worldsbaddestmother. Without knowing it..you made me feel bright and full of promise.

AWESOME. I love you and I am so proud of you. I feel like you’re back and you’re you. As my friend would say, “You finally got your backbone where your wishbone used to be!” Every single one of those notes was true and real. I’m glad you are here to read them again and see them for the first time.

I carry the name tag from Val’s room on University of Washington’s 8NE. I didn’t know her well, but she fought hard and long after her bone marrow tranplant. She was from France, and her friends and family sat in the family waiting room daily, hoping beyond hope. One morning, I woke up and felt like the Lord wanted me to tell her family that Val was _________________. (It was a very specific word, one I would not normally use and cannot, for that reason, recall it now.) I went to these strangers and said, “The Lord wants you to know that Val is ______________.”) And they looked at me with acceptance and understanding, and perhaps gratitude.
She passed away the next day–hers was one of the “scary” deaths where the person is walking around drinking chocolate milk one day and dead the next. I cannot tell you what those deaths did to me.
I carry her name tag because 1) they shouldn’t have left it there 2) she was brave 3) as a reminder I am not there, and never will be again–

Amen, Rachel. I couldn’t even write about some of the other things that I keep. I have little grocery receipts with to do lists on them that Richard wrote. I can’t throw away anything that has his handwriting because it’s so intimate.

You’ll never be there again and for that I am so grateful. I have sworn that I will NEVER fly into BWI airport again. EVER.

My mother, who has never been a particularly sentimental person, gave me a charm bracelet when I was 16 and I have added to it over the years. I’m now 47 and although I don’t wear it often, I keep it in my jewelry box to remind me that I’m her daughter and yes, in fact she does love me. 🙂

To Cheryl — Had that problem – learned to find browser settings/display and increase the percentage (zoom) – works on almost any. Also view-zoom sometimes works – frustrating, I know. For me it’s a recent problem, Next step is to call hp or dell or whatever browser. Go to gethuman.com for the fastest way to get service. I answered you because I’m 82.

My license plate reads WWSBD. Stands for what would Super Betsy do? Reminds me to do whatever my very best self would do…. Not a security blanket, but a reminder that I am powerful and super and amazing – just have to remember it when I’m not feeling any of those things….